Her Butler, Commanded
by Refugeeoftumblr
Summary: Holly Short did not intend to let the people who destroyed her life win. (Crossposted from AO3).


He came to her as the fires raged, a dark shadow at the edge of her vision.

"Holly Short."

Though the flames had licked at her flesh mere seconds before, all Holly felt now was a comfortable warmth. Despite the chains that still held her in place, she could almost imagine that she was laid out beside the fireplace, and that her mother would be along to hand her a hot chocolate if only she waited a little longer.

Her mother. Bile rose in Holly's throat at the thought. _Burnt flesh, a skeleton's smile-_

"Holly Short." A commanding voice. Smooth, chilling, and unmistakably… Irish?

"Who is that?"

The voice chuckled. "Someone who can help you, my dear."

"How? I'm dying." It was a strange, sick sensation to feel her own heart stuttering, going longer between beats. Holly forced a laugh that could have been mistaken for a death rattle. Maybe, she reminded herself, because it _was_. "Whatever you want, you're too late, _sir_."

Something fluttered to her left, and when she turned her head to see what it was, she let out a startled gasp. A magpie sat atop a walking stick, watching her with bright, intelligent black eyes. The most incredible thing, however, was that the walking stick the magpie perched on was balancing itself without any apparent support.

"What is this? I must be–"

"Dreaming? Hallucinating? No, my dear." The magpie regarded her coolly, its gaze impassive. "And if you choose correctly, you don't have to be dying, either. Not before your time, at any rate."

Holly swallowed. There was a chance that she might survive this mess? "I doubt you'd be willing to save me for free. You have a price in mind, don't you?"

The chuckle was more genuine this time. It was also colder and more cynical.

"Correct."

Short Manor lay, elegant yet lifeless, among the still-growing garden beds of its vast estate. From the road, framed as it was between dark poplar trees, the sprawling mansion looked hair-raisingly like a hungry creature lying in wait. Even the sunrise – a glory of pinks and yellows – couldn't soften the burst of dread in Holly's gut as her family home came into view.

The young marchioness turned her face away from the sight, frowning. Her hazel eyes (or at least, the one not covered by an eye patch) grew unfocused as she lost herself in memories of happier days. Life had been simpler then, before everything that had transpired, less chaotic and unclear…

"My lady, we've arrived."

A lilting voice, the accent instantly recognizable as Irish. Holly resisted the urge to startle: she hadn't even noticed the carriage door opening until the man spoke to get her attention. His clothes were as professional as his tone: a dark, tailored tailcoat – and matching dress pants – over a white undershirt, which would have made him look like a penguin if not for how severely pale and thin he was.

"My lady?" He tilted his head. Though the sun rising behind him threw his face into shadow, the weight of his scrutiny was plain enough to Holly.

"Yes," she said, a touch impatiently. "Thank you, Artemis."

Stepping out of the carriage, Holly took a deep breath of fresh country air, turning her face to the sky and filling her lungs with the scent of myriad flowers. A small part of her expected the lingering smell of smoke and ash, but she did not find it. Well. Of course not. Time and nature had had their way, healing the earth, while Artemis had healed the house itself. There were some things, however, that nothing could heal, and for a moment Holly found herself struggling to blink back tears.

Foolish sentiment. She couldn't stand around all day. There were things to do, duties to see fulfilled. A lady's work was never done.

After taking a moment to pull herself together, she glanced back at her butler. "Take my things to the master bedroom, Artemis. I'll be in the study until lunch."

She had projects that she needed to check on. A year had passed since that fateful night, wasted in training. It was a miracle that she'd been able to accomplish any tasks at all, bogged down as she'd been in anything and everything but what she'd wanted to be doing.

_No more._

As though he'd sensed her inner resolve, Artemis shut the carriage door with a heavy _thud_. "As you wish, _my dear_."

Everything was exactly the same. From the books that sat on the shelves to the scratches underneath the study desk, it had all been faithfully recreated, down to the very last detail.

Holly Short watched the beams of light streaming in through the stained glass window behind the desk, interrupted only by her own body in their path to the door. A mirror to her left, had she cared to look, would have reflected the frown that tugged at her cherubic lips. She did not look: the unusual beauty of her rich, nut brown skin and dark auburn hair held no interest for her anymore, apart from whether or not they were kept in proper order, as they should be.

Artemis took care of that. He took care of it all, these days.

Making a sour face, Holly took a seat to look at the papers that had been crammed into every available space inside the desk. Various bills, household expenses, and reports made up the bulk of the clutter, and those she would give to her butler to be dealt with or thrown away as needed, but some of it was to do with the _other_ side of the Short family's hereditary duty to Queen and country.

As the new marchioness of her family, that lesser-known duty now fell to Holly; as her training during the last year had confirmed, the duty was a heavy one. One that had cost her parents and twin sister their lives…

Holly scoffed angrily, throwing down the sheaf of paper in her hands. _I will not be stamped out so easily._ Had anyone been there to watch her, the light catching in her short, close-cut hair would have looked like fire, and the determination in her gaze potent enough to light a candle.

Relaxing back into her chair, the marchioness took a deep, fortifying breath and then rang the bell for her butler.

"Oh, Artemis," she murmured, glancing down at the papers that had so angered her. "We have a lot of things to get done, don't we?"

His cold chuckle sounded before her. "Yes, my lady."

**FIN**


End file.
